Pickled Roses
by Satiah
Summary: In another world, they might have become friends. Ayanami and Labrador, elementary AU.


07-Ghost © Yuki Amemiya and Yukino Ichihara

...

Labrador was small, it was true. An easy target for bullies, he came home with tears in bright lavender eyes and bruises on skinny little arms. Things became worse when he developed the peculiar habit of speaking to plants. In his personal sanctuary he would, for hours if let be, converse with the petunias and gardenias as if they were his best friends - as indeed, they were. He would sing to the sunflowers, hum with the hydrangea, run with the roses, and climb with the ivy. He was careful to hide when the older kids came out to play, though. They liked to injure his friends.

Decapitated, broken, bent, and trampled, delicate faces mercilessly smashed. Stomping feet ground beauty into shapeless pulp, and little Labrador could do nothing to protect soft petals from harm.

Only then would roots be watered with shed tears.

...

Sitting dully in fifth grade detention - for deliberately kicking a soccer ball at the face of his nemesis, that blockheaded blonde in Mr. Bastien's class - Ayanami had become famous among his peers. This year he had gathered quite the following: a group of young rebels who named themselves The Black Hawks, in honor of their leader's favorite color and a cool-looking predatory bird they had learned about in science class a year prior. It seemed fitting, to a group of such boys.

Typically, Ayanami would prowl the playground, searching for those he could harass. Those too weak to stand up to him weren't worth his time; they already cowered and shivered and scurried like mice. But there were a handful of kids his age from the class next door who refused to acknowledge The Black Hawks as the Masters of Recess, and so began the continual war: The Black Hawks versus The Bishops.

The leader - the smartest nerd of the bunch - was head of the elementary school chess team. His right-hand man, the blockhead from Mr. Bastien's, was a smart-mouthed soccer player. The others Ayanami paid no attention to; his Hawks could deal with the lesser men.

Barred from joining his peers on the playground, Ayanami was forced instead to sit through recess, head down and eyes gazing (or glazing) out the window. He could barely see his Hawks taunting the sixth-grade basketball team, picking fights without his guidance. That was all right - Hyuuga could lead as well as he.

Fighting to not fall asleep, lest the instructor notice and make him come back after school, Ayanami scoured the courtyard for something of interest. That's when he saw them - The Barsburgs. (Ayanami had no idea where _that_ name had come from; it was even worse than _The_ _Bishops_.) They were picking on a kid much smaller than themselves. Ayanami's head shot up from his desk and he glowered, wondering why his Hawks weren't interfering. There was a sense of justice behind his bullying: fear was enough for them; fear would grow into respect. But this, this pointless terror to one who couldn't stand on his own, would turn into spite. That led to trouble. Tattling.

There was nothing Ayanami could do but watch, noting who was in the group of Barsburgs, noting what they did. Watching as they pushed and pulled the smaller child, watched as they ripped and kicked their way through the school's garden. Watched as the child said nothing, did nothing: simply sat and forgave.

...

"Hawks." Ayanami ordered, gathering his boys after school was dismissed. He never needed to search for his loyal members; they always met beneath the bleachers. With sharp eyes Ayanami watched the building purge itself of hundreds of backpack toting brats. With hatred he noted The Barsburgs at their usual place beneath the double set of monkey bars.

"Wha'ss happ'n, Aya-thaan?" Hyuuga asked around a lollipop too large for his mouth.

With great distaste, Ayanami nodded toward the monkey bars and made certain each and every Hawk saw what he saw. "Today we declare war."

...

They returned after school. They always did.

He didn't move, hoping that, if he stayed in one place it wouldn't occur to them to destroy the rest of the garden. He would never run, nor would he make himself difficult to find. Perhaps those older students would trample what they had already trampled. Perhaps they would leave the rest alone.

The flowers trembled.

Labrador sighed, unafraid, and waited patiently. The Barsburgs appeared with their self-satisfied smirks, with their gap-toothed grins, trailing behind their leader, each one a coward made strong by the presence of others. They threw their customary hellos, derogatory words meant to intimidate and sting.

Labrador ignored them. The flowers cried.

Concerned, his large, gentle eyes searched for the source of his friends' fear; it was unlike them to react in such a violent manner to bullies such as these. He even watched an older rose release its precious petals, quaking from its very roots.

The columbines shifted, pulling away, and then he understood: it was a new gang. The ones dressed in black. The one leading, baseball cap pulled low, was followed by a student with sunglasses and candy. The rest of them followed in a v-shaped line, never coagulating like the bullies he was used to. No, these students arrayed themselves in formation, fanning out, each one confident, awaiting their leader's orders.

Labrador felt the grass tremble. He stood, hoping there would be a way to stop a needless gang battle before the garden perished in violent crossfire.

"Barsburg," Ayanami said, baseball cap revealing only one piercingly violet eye.

"Hawk," the leader, Wakaba Oak, replied.

"I believe you're messing on our turf," Kuroyuri piped up from his place atop sixth-grader Haruse's shoulder. "Ayanami-sama's interested in this half of the courtyard."

Shigure looked from Wakaba to Ayanami. "Barsburg's always held _this_ end," he defended. "You've always had _that_ end."

"But now~," answered Hyuuga, holding his lollipop in one enthusiastically bouncing hand, "it's _all_ about to become ours."

Labrador watched as the gangs sized each other up, Black Hawks self-assured, Barsburgs indignant.

"Please," Labrador spoke, voice petal-soft. "There is no need to fight." He was, predictably, largely ignored. But he did notice Ayanami watching him, and the sudden attention startled Labrador into backing up a step. He felt the reassuring support of the flowering bushes behind him; he relaxed, realizing he would be warned if there was a threat of danger.

...

The battle didn't occur.

Ayanami snapped his fingers and his group stepped forward as one, military straight, stopping with a uniform thump of sneakered heels. The Barsburgs ran away.

Wary, Labrador watched the Hawks celebrate, laughing and slapping each other on the back, hollering insults at the hastily retreating gang. He remained quiet, afraid they would remember him and pick up where the Barsburgs left off. The garden wouldn't revive if this larger gang decided to trample over it as well.

He didn't expect the hand upon his shoulder, guiding him out from beneath the flowering bushes. He didn't expect to be scrutinized by the Black Hawk's leader, the kid who bent down on one knee to examine the bruises on Labrador's face and arms. He didn't expect to hear a frustrated sigh escape pursed lips.

"Men," Ayanami said, standing, turning swifter than Labrador could blink. "This is the reason we stand." He gestured to Labrador behind him, confused as the rest of the Black Hawks.

"...For _girls?"_ one of them put forward tentatively. "I thought it was in our Code that 'Girls Are Very, Very Icky.'" This last statement was carried by a chorus of practiced voices.

"They are," Ayanami agreed with a nod. "But this is not a girl."

Labrador's eyes brightened. It wasn't often someone noticed upon their first introduction.

"No, This is a Weakling," Ayanami emphasized. Labrador sighed and turned away, parting the remains of trampled plants to edge himself closer to the school's outer brick wall. He'd hide beneath the briar roses where no one could reach him. He wasn't sure what this group wanted, but he no longer cared to listen. He had a garden to tend to from behind a defensive nest of thorns.

"We don't hit Weaklings!"

"Yeah!"

"We intimidate them!"

"Yeah!"

"We hit those who hit them!"

"YEAH!"

Labrador buried himself beneath thick folds of ivy, using his hidden escape route to leave the playground. He'd wait at home until the garden was quiet and devoid of idiots.

...

It was surprising how quickly a gentle garden could become a regular battleground, but for all the ruckus, it was recovering well. The Hawks claimed his flowering patch as their own, but that didn't keep the Barsburgs from trying to take it back from time to time. Ayanami was quick to assert his authority, and the Barsburgs were quick to fall apart, but there were usually trampled casualties during said retreats. Finally, it was all Labrador could take.

"Ayanami-san," he said, looking at the much taller, older student dead in his eye.

Eyebrows raised on every Hawk present, aside from the theatrical Hyuuga who opted for pausing his crunching attack on a tootsie-pop. "Yes?" Ayanami replied, looking more amused than anything else.

"I must ask you to stop harassing the flowers."

Ayanami blinked. "The...flowers?"

Labrador huffed. _Really_, was it so hard to _notice_? "Yes, the _flowers_."

A giggle erupted from the nearest Hawk, Kuroyuri, and gently spread to infect the others. Ayanami, however, settled for a smile. "How am I to do that, little one?"

"It's _Labrador_," he answered. "Please remove your battles from inside this sanctuary, and take them elsewhere. The pavement is three steps to your right, for goodness' sake."

Hyuuga's laugh drowned out the rest. "Imagine!" he said, "This little pipsqueak _ordering_ Aya-tan to _move his battles!_"

Ayanami paused to consider his options. "What is my incentive?" he asked.

"Poison ivy."

Ayanami chuckled, but complied. If the little one was willing to defend his turf by challenging the entirety of the Hawks, then it must be a worthwhile wish to honor.

But that wasn't to say it wasn't a rather amusing request.

...

"Hey," Frau said, sitting forward. "They're still hanging around that purple-haired kid."

Castor adjusted his glasses and moved forward his rook, taking Frau's knight. "Intimidation?" he asked.

"Not sure. They aren't beating him up, at least. Not like the others."

"But they did move outside the garden's perimeter."

"I say we introduce ourselves, already," an impatient voice piped up.

Frau advanced his own rook and waved at their spectator. "Lance, really. He's got enough people harassing him. How's he to know we're actually _nice_?"

"We have a reputation!"

"Yeah, as being losers. I don't think that'll ease his bully problems anytime soon. We're led by _Castor_."

"What was that?" Castor said, springing his trap to take the errant rook.

"Nothing."

"But surely," Lance continued. "Surely, having the assistance of older companions is preferable to fending for one's self."

"What would you have me do?" Castor asked.

"Meet him, of course."

Frau eyed the board. "Nah. I'll do it."

"Why is that?"

"I can take Ayanami in a fight."

"We don't fight."

"My point exactly. _You two wusses_ don't fight."

Castor sighed and ended the game, breaking through Frau's pitiful defenses. "Don't frighten him," he reminded gently. "He's bound to be suspicious."

Frau stood with a grunt, stretched, and eyed the Black Hawks before grabbing his book bag and setting off. "Yeah, yeah," he waved over his shoulder. "I'll be careful."

...

As expected, the Black Hawks defended their territory, forming a wall with more attitude than height. (Frau was tall for his age.)

"Move aside," he said, "I'm here for the kid."

Hyuuga snapped his bubble gum. "He's under Hawk protection, Bishop."

Frau shrugged and dropped his bag, freeing his body of restraints - just in case there happened to be a scuffle. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled over the Hawks' heads. "Hey! Kid in the daisies!"

Labrador glanced over his shoulder, unconcerned. All eyes were on him. He laid his trowel aside, preferring to remain openhanded; the last thing he needed was for this other student to think he was brandishing a weapon.

"Let's talk, huh?"

"I'm not interested in joining a gang," Labrador replied, returning to his business of replanting squashed pansies, "but thank you."

Frau blinked. Then he grinned. "Move aside," he repeated to the Hawks nearest to him. "I'm talking to the kid."

The Hawks held their ground. Frau bullied them apart, crossed the threshold separating courtyard from garden, and paused with one foot in the air. The Hawks started forward - Ayanami brought them to a halt. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Frau noticed large purple eyes watching his feet, so he switched direction, mindful of stepping on anything which looked like it might yet still contain the breath of life.

Labrador's eyes smiled, even while his face remained blank.

"Trust me yet?" Frau asked, gently untangling a rosebud from his blonde hair, mindful to keep it attached to its nurturing branch.

The lilies swayed. Labrador took the offered hand.

...

That was the last they'd spoken.

Ayanami enrolled in Military Academy. He demonstrated such calculated ferocity that rumors had already begun to circulate - perhaps he truly _would_ become the youngest member of an elite Zaiphon-based squad so powerful none dared speak its name.

They were rumors. But there was little doubt they were true.

So it was with some surprise that Ayanami - leaving his barracks for the final time, transitioning out to a real battlefield - discovered a sudden flash of purple. He stopped; his Hawks, nearly running into him from behind, curiously peered over and through the departing crowds to see a little weakling watering the marigolds.

The Church acolytes had come to tend to the Academy's grounds - a tradition long ago devised to maintain the pretense that the Church and State were friends. A training bascule rested beside him, covered in delicate blossoms blooming fragrant and white, as unthreatening a device as Ayanami had ever seen.

The garden flowers, hardened to the ways of the Military, belied not a trace of emotion.

Ayanami smiled, pulled low his hat, and walked on.

...


End file.
